The Death Monarch scowled, his fingers flicking out in a desperate motion as he called forth yet another spell.

Dark energy coiled around him like a viper ready to strike, and he thrust his hands forward, unleashing a torrent of deathly tendrils that lashed toward Volk, their tips crackling with the promise of agony.

“With this curse, you will wither, you wretched beast!” he spat, his voice thick with frustration.

But Volk didn’t even flinch.

He let the dark tendrils graze his skin, watching as they slid off, unable to latch onto his hardened, empowered body.

His eyes blazed with contempt.

Raising his massive fist, he drove it straight down with a ground-shaking blow.

KABOOM!

The ground splintered, erupting in a violent shockwave as Volk’s fist slammed into the earth.

The Death Monarch was blasted back, his form crumbling against the unrelenting force.

He tumbled, landing in a heap, his skeletal form broken and splattered across the rocks.

“BLASTED OGRE!” the Death Monarch rasped, scrambling to piece himself together, his voice dripping with venom.

“HOW DARE YOU TREAT ME LIKE A MERE INSECT!”

He sneered, attempting to drag himself up, his bones creaking as they reluctantly shifted back into place.

Volk took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he threw back his head and roared, “DOESN’T MATTER WHO YOU ARE! YOU ARE NOTHING BEFORE VOLK!”

His voice thundered across the battlefield, every word drenched in primal fury, a rallying cry that sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers.

Then, to Volk’s astonishment, the Death Monarch’s shattered bones began to pull together, weaving themselves back in place with an unnatural, rapid precision.

The fractured ribs knitted, the skull reformed, and within a heartbeat, the Death Monarch stood once more, whole and untouched. His laugh echoed, dripping with newfound arrogance.

“FOOLISH OGRE!” the Death Monarch taunted, his voice brimming with pride.

“Do you really think you can destroy me? I am death incarnate! No matter how many times you beat me down, I will rise again, whole and unbroken!”

He stretched his arms wide, reveling in his reborn strength. “You may be strong now, but strength alone cannot overcome the eternal!”

Volk’s response was immediate.

He moved with brutal swiftness, his massive hand swatting the Death Monarch as though he were a bothersome fly.

The Death Monarch was hurled into the sky, spinning wildly from the blow, and before he could catch his bearings, Volk had already leapt after him.

WHAM!

Volk’s fist connected with the Death Monarch’s face, shattering part of his skull and sending him plummeting back toward the ground like a meteor.

The impact cracked the earth open in a sprawling crater, dust and debris swirling around the fallen figure.

But before the dust could even settle, Volk’s shadow loomed over him, his foot crashing down with a force that shook the very mountains.

SMASH!

Each blow left the ground quaking, the rocks splitting apart in jagged lines as Volk battered the Death Monarch without mercy.

And yet, each time the Death Monarch fell, his bones would weave themselves back together, regenerating in the blink of an eye, as though mocking Volk’s every attempt.

“Pathetic beast,” the Death Monarch sneered as his shattered form reassembled yet again, his voice a venomous hiss.

“Do you not see? Your efforts are pointless. You’re nothing more than a mindless brute.”

“VOLK WILL SHOW YOU… POWER!” Volk thundered, his fist already descending once more.

He slammed the Death Monarch into the ground with such force that the ground fractured and shook, a plume of dust rising into the sky.

And as the Death Monarch began to pull himself together again, Volk lunged forward, grabbing him mid-regeneration, and hurled him across the landscape, sending his skeletal form skidding over the jagged rocks.

BAM! Volk was already upon him, his fist colliding with the Death Monarch’s face, the force of it smashing the skeletal jaw and shattering half of his ribcage.

Yet, in the span of a heartbeat, those bones reformed, his injuries knitting themselves back with chilling ease.

“This is all you have, Ogre?” The Death Monarch’s voice was laced with mockery as he reached out, summoning necromantic energy that sparked in his palm. “You are nothing before true power!”

He unleashed a blast of dark energy toward Volk, the air splitting with the rancid smell of decaying magic.

The necromantic magic collided with Volk’s chest, wrapping around him like a snake, binding his limbs, digging into his flesh.

But Volk only grinned, ripping free of the shadowy bindings with sheer strength, brushing them off like cobwebs.

“YOUR MAGIC… IS NOTHING!” he bellowed, slamming both of his fists down, driving the Death Monarch into the ground yet again.

In the brief moment before his form shattered, the Death Monarch could barely sneer, only to feel the world spin as Volk slammed him into the ground once more, this time creating an explosion of stone and earth that sent shockwaves across the battlefield.

The Death Monarch’s pride was crumbling, each regenerated bone faltering slightly, yet still, he rose.

“Haha!” The Death Monarch’s laughter was manic, unhinged. “Strike me as you will, beast! I am untouchable, an undying force! You may be stronger, but I cannot be killed!”

Volk’s roar shook the heavens as he launched himself at the Death Monarch, slamming him with unrelenting force, driving him through stone, rock, and rubble.

Each blow echoed like thunder, each collision sending a cascade of debris into the air. And each time the Death Monarch would rise, his bones piecing back together as if untouched.

Midair, the Death Monarch raised a hand, his eyes burning with desperation as he conjured a twisted, shadowy spell.

“Necromantic Crush!”

He threw his hand forward, a wave of undead energy rippling outward.

Volk stumbled back, feeling the force, but as the spell attempted to latch onto his flesh, he only shook it off, his eyes blazing with unyielding fury.

“YOU WILL BREAK!”

Volk roared, surging forward with a bellowing fury that shattered the magic around him.

He swatted the Death Monarch back, the force sending him flying through the air, the landscape bending to the will of their destructive power.

Yet, Volk was relentless, leaping into the sky with the speed of a thunderbolt, catching up and slamming his fists into the Death Monarch once more.

The Death Monarch screamed, his voice a twisted cry as his body shattered again, his magic failing him as Volk’s blows broke him down.

Yet, before Volk’s eyes, the Death Monarch reformed again, his bones pulling together even faster, the remnants of his laughter echoing through the carnage.

“YOU CANNOT DEFEAT DEATH!” he crowed, conjuring a final surge of necromantic magic. But even as the energy flowed from his hands, Volk’s fist crashed into him, the magic dispersing like fog.

Blow after blow, slam after slam, Volk’s unrelenting assault left the battlefield littered with craters, rocks, and shattered debris. And with each furious strike, the Death Monarch’s smugness wavered, his laughter faltering, his body struggling to hold form.

Finally, as Volk loomed over him, casting a shadow like a dark omen, the Death Monarch’s voice was a cracked whisper, tinged with a hint of disbelief, “How… is this possible?”

His form was struggling, his once-seamless regeneration slowing, faltering.

“YOU… WILL… BREAK!” Volk growled, his voice a thunderous promise, fists clenched as he raised them high.

And as he prepared to strike once more, the Death Monarch, for the first time, had no response, no mockery, no sneer—just silent dread.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep